


The Winchester Special

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Destiel Feels [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Barber Shop, Awkward Conversations, Becky is my hero, Castiel Makes the First Move, Flirting, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Dean Winchester, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 23:43:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12352968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: Dean's hair is a mess, but thankfully— his new apartment is just around the corner from Castiel's Barber Shop.





	The Winchester Special

Tulsa is a weird city.

Does _it even count as a city…or is it just a big town?_

Dean isn’t sure; but what he _is_ sure of is that it’s _weird_. Or maybe he’s just certain that it’s _different_. Maybe he’s just homesick and doing what he _always_ does in the face of change—get super negative and make himself miserable.

_Yeah … that’s probably what it is._

He sighs and continues walking down the sidewalk. There’s supposed to be a Supercuts down here, or a Fantastic Sam’s, or Sports Clips or whatever the hell those chain hair salons like to call themselves these days. He looked up the location on his phone because he knew that his new job was expecting to see the clean shaven, neatly trimmed , professional architect they interviewed over a month ago … not the scruffy, shaggy  hippie-lookin’ fool that he is now. He needs a haircut … he’s starting to look homeless; or worse— _like Sam_.

Dean chuckles at his own joke, but then frowns with the thought of his baby brother.

He misses him. He misses home.

He misses sitting on Sam’s couch, watching the game—drinking a beer as Sam’s kids climb all over him, which is what he’d normally be doing on a Sunday afternoon; but instead, he’s walking down this strange street in a strange city, looking like a strange, hairy crazy person because this fucking salon _isn’t_ where Google said it would be!

“Damnit” Dean whispers under his breath, stopping mid-step to look over to the other side of the block.

“Ya lost, son?”

Dean flinches with the sound of the light drawl and wheels back around to see a tall, portly man in a clean, white cowboy hat and matching suit. He’s got some dark brown and turquoise boots on, and a similarly colored bollo tie _._

_He looks like a freakin’ cartoon character._

Dean gapes a moment and then clears his throat. “Oh, uh …”

“Who’s yer friend, Hoss? He’s quite a handsome fella.” A grinning woman strides up and promptly parks herself next to the man.

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to find out, darlin’.”

Dean stares at them both a moment more, and then over their shoulders and down the road. There's a church at the end of the block with a steady flood of people spilling out of it. He’s guessing, that’s where these two came from. “Oh, _um_ … I just moved here … uh, to the apartments up the way—” Dean waves a thumb behind himself for reference. “I’m just tryin’ to find this hair salon but it’s not where it’s supposed to be.” Dean lifts up his phone to shows the man and woman the map, and they both lean in and squint at it, eventually leaning back after another beat and smiling at one another.

“Well— _sweetheart_ , ya ain’t gonna find that place over _here_. That’s on 21 st street _West_ , and you’re on 21st street _East_. Yer on the wrong side of town!” the woman chuckles while raising her hand to scrunch her unbelievably big hair.

“That’s right. This end o’ town is much more quiet. Ya ain’t gonna find any of those cookie cutter stores and shops in these parts. We got the ma n’ pop places here. It’s a _community_ , ya see? We all take care o’ each other. Support local business and what not—so I suggest ya head over to Cas’s if ya want to get a _good_ cut and shave. That’s where _I_ go—every Saturday. Cas cleans me up real good.” The man then takes off his cowboy hat and turns his head from side to side, to showcase his neatly trimmed hair and clean shaven cheeks.

The woman beside him squeals loudly and clasps her hands together. “Oh ain’t my man a sight? Nothin’ like a good shave to make him prettier than a freshly picked petunia!”

“Golly— _stop it_ , Helen. Yer gonna make me blush” the man grumbles, already turning a bright shade of pink.

The woman— _Helen_ , then giggles behind her blood red nails before tilting up on her toes to kiss the man.  He leans into it. “Anyhow, son. I understand if ya still wanna find yer cheap, _impersonal_ place … but I reckon that ya may want to at very least, check out Cas’s first … seein’ how ya live in our community now. It sure would mean a lot to us if ya supported the local peoples.”

Dean swallows thickly, wondering how some simple directions turned into a guilt-filled, induction ceremony to Oklahoma-small town living. “Oh uh, well I just—”

“What’s yer name, son?” The man quickly cuts in again. “I’m Jeb Tussleman and this purty young lady is my wife, Helen.”

Helen giggles some more and then whacks Jeb playfully on the shoulder. “Oh, _you!_ ”

“But everyone just calls me _Hoss_.” He then reaches out his hand to Dean.

“Oh, I’m Dean—Dean Winchester.” Dean shakes Hoss’s hand and then Helen’s, before looking shyly back at his phone.

“Pleasure to meet ya, Dean. Why’d ya move to Tulsa?”

Dean really needs to get back to his apartment and unpack the rest of his stuff, and he’s also _starving_ —and something tells him, these two could stand out on this street corner and talk to him until he’s a hundred and seven.   _I need to go._ “Well— _uh_ , I just took a job out here. I moved from Kansas.”

“Oh! Rebecca lives in Kansas!” Helen squeals even louder now, while whacking her husband yet again. “Do you know her?”

“Calm down, Helen! Kansas is a whole dang _state_! The chances of this boy knowin’ our daughter are slim to none.” His face blanks a moment and suddenly, he’s side eyeing Dean. “Ya _don’t_ know her, right?”

Dean flaps his mouth several times before shrugging. “I—uh, I don’t know anyone named Rebecca … sorry.”

The woman deflates and puts her hand on her hip. “ _Shame_. I think you two coulda got along great!”

“Oh, _Helen_ … ya don’t even know the boy!”

“I know he’s as handsome as they come, and our Rebecca is not gettin’ any younger!”

“ _Ugh_ … _Helen_ ” Hoss groans, lifting his hand to rub at his eyes.

“What? She ain’t! And I ain’t either! I want some grandbabies! Isn’t that my right? Shouldn’t a woman of _my_ age get some grandbabies to spoil?”

“Forgive her” Hoss mumbles. “She gets fired up real easy.”

Dean forces a smile, figuring the only way to get this awkward conversation over with, is to really _participate_ in it. _Fight fire with fire._ “That’s perfectly alright—” Dean then sets his eyes on Helen again. “but I’m just curious how such a _young_ woman could ever expect to be a grandmother?”

With surprise, Helen turns and looks Dean over, and then explodes into a mess of giddy grins. “Oh … well! Goodness, son! Ain’t you just the sweetest?”

Dean quickly gives the woman his most charming smirk and then winks at her.

“Hey now, boy! Don’t go stealin’ my wife! _Well_ … unless I _want_ her stoled. It depends on the day.”

That makes Dean chuckle, but _Helen’s_ laughs stop, and she whacks her husband for a third time.

“Jeb, ya durn fool! Ya best watch out or else me and Dean here will run off together! Somethin’ tells me _he_ knows how to treat a lady!”

Dean nods and chuckles some more—but it’s more at the _irony_ of that statement than anything. He _could_ tell these two that he’s actually gayer than a rainbow painted unicorn, and neither their daughter _nor_ Helen stand a chance in hell at catching his eye; but he refrains, because a couple of old fashioned, church-goin’ Okies might not take too kindly to his lifestyle.

“Oh boy! Okay, well—on _that_ _note_ , we best be goin’—but if you wanna try out Cas’s barber shop, just keep heading up the road and then take the next right.  Ya can’t miss it. Tell him _Jeb_ sent ya.” Hoss puts his cowboy hat back on his head and then straightens his tie, as if that’s what it takes to officially wrap up their little talk.

“Thank you, sir” Dean says, reaching out to shake the man’s hand again.

Hoss smiles and accepts, and Helen shakes Dean’s hand once more too, and then swings in and plants a wet kiss on Dean’s cheek before he even has a chance to react.

“Welcome to our city, sweetheart. Ya let us know if ya need anythin’, alright?”

“Will do, Ma’am.”

Helen smiles before looping her arm inside her husband’s—and then the two saunter away, just as animated as ever. Dean waits until they’re at least three store fronts down before wiping at his cheek with the sleeve of his jacket. Some bright red coloring comes off onto the dark green fabric and he groans—spinning around to use the window of the bookstore he’s standing next to to try and wipe off the rest of the lipstick from his hairy face.

“Ugh … what did I get myself into?” he asks his own reflection, blushing some when he sees a woman on the other side of the glass, holding a book and watching him curiously.

Dean quickly turns and continues on down the road, following Hoss’s directions to the barber shop. He’s never actually _been_ _to_ a barber shop before. He obviously knows that they’re still a thing, but they seem like they’ve become more of a novelty—a place to go just for kicks, just so you can say you’ve done it. Other than that, he doesn’t really understand the appeal. As far as he knows—they’re overpriced and showy. He just needs a _haircut_ —not a memorable social experience.

As soon as he rounds the corner, he sees it: the red and blue and white spiral of the barber’s pole. The rest of the shop is all wood facing and glass with old timey, red font gracing the panes. “Castiel’s Barber Shop” Dean reads, wondering what kind of name is ”Castiel”? It sounds weird— _too weird_ for a place as old fashioned as _this_.

The door jingles as he pushes inside, and once in— he looks around at the all the mirrored walls and wood framed, black and white photos. There’s brass and leather _everywhere_ —and it smells slightly musty, yet still clean … like a rarely opened closet.  But before the door can even shut fully behind him, a blonde, bouncing head is loudly chirping a greeting “Good afternoon, sir! May I take your jacket?”

“What? _No_ … I mean, it’s okay.”

The young woman frowns a little and then shrugs before beaming yet again and trotting around the counter to settle behind the register. “Alright, well how can we help you? Oh, what am I saying! It looks like you need the works! So—a shave and cut, then?”

“ _Uh_ …” Dean glances back around the otherwise empty shop, wondering if _this_ is actually the barber. _It can’t be though_ … he could’ve sworn Hoss said “Cas” was a _guy_ —not that Dean cares about the gender of who cuts his hair, but this girl looks like she drinks a gallon of espresso _every hour, on the hour_ , so he doesn’t really trust her with scissors. “ _No_ … I just need a haircut. I can do the shaving myself.”

The girl’s mouth falls open, as if Dean had just said he likes to beat puppies in his spare time. “What? No, no, no, no, no! You _have to_ have a straight razor shave! Have you ever had one before? You _have to_ try it! It’s seriously the best! Well—I mean, _I_ haven’t had one, _obviously_ ; but all our customers _swear_ by it! Really, you have to! I mean—you just _have_ to!”

Dean is suddenly wondering if he can make it back out the door before this girl explodes into a mushroom cloud of confetti and sprinkles; because there’s _coming on too strong,_ and then there’s _her._ She’s like a tsunami of perkiness, and Dean is just a tilted shack on the beach.

“Becky? Do we have a customer?”

Dean freezes mid-retreat with the sound of the low, gruff voice; and as he turns his head to look across the shop towards the back door, the most beautiful man he’s ever seen suddenly emerges. He is about as tall as Dean is, but thicker all around— _obviously so_ , judging by the way those fitted dark pants strain to keep in his muscular thighs. And then there’s the way his white, button up shirt hugs at his arms and shoulders, and the way that dark brown vest wraps around his barreled chest. This man looks dapper and put together, but still intimidating, just like a character from an old movie. All he’s missing is a cigar and a tommy gun. Dean then watches as he carefully unbuttons the sleeves of his shirt and rolls them up to his elbows, exposing strong, tan forearms that could easily wring Dean dry if they wanted to. _He really wants them to want to._

“Yes, indeedy! He’s a straight razor virgin too! He needs the works! Oh! I love it when we get new people in here!” Becky squeals, jumping up and down like an over excited Chihuahua.

The man then walks closer and smiles softly, looking Dean over with bright, but serious blue eyes. “Hello, sir. Are you in fact— _looking for the works?_ ”

“ _Uh_ …” Dean rasps once more, glancing at Becky before turning back to take in the gorgeous man, who he can now safely assume is _Castiel_ —the barber. “I … I just kinda needed a haircut. I can … I can shave myself.” He winces as soon as he says it, wondering why ‘ _shave myself’_ sounds so dirty all of a sudden.

Castiel squints at him but his smile only deepens. “Yes … yes, well. We do have a special for new customers …” he gestures towards the small, decorative chalkboard that’s propped up on the counter. Big, bubbly letters read: “ **Newcomer’s Special** ” followed by a description of the service, but Cas is already explaining it before Dean has a chance to look any further. “It’s a free haircut and a half priced shave— _if_ you’re interested in trying it out. Of course, if you just need a trim, I can do that too. Whatever you’d like.”

“No! _Cas!_ We _need_ to give him the works! Just _look_ at him!”

With a scoff, Dean scrunches his face at the girl, wondering what _that’_ s supposed to mean.

Becky blushes. “No offense, sir—but you _need_ it. Seriously, you won’t regret it! Cas is the best barber in town, just ask anyone!”

“Alright, alright, Becky. That’s enough … I’m sure this man knows what he wants.”

 _You … naked … on my new couch, showing me what those forearms can do._ Dean clears his throat and tries to shake the dirty thoughts out of his head. “Uh—well, she’s right, _I mean_ … about people thinkin’ you’re the best. I just ran into a couple on the street that pointed me towards your shop. It’s why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Castiel asks, now walking over to the barber’s chair at his left to pick up a towel that’s draped over the head rest.

“Yeah … uh … Jeb, or well— _Hoss_ Tussleman and his wife. They were raving about you.”

“Ah, yes—they’re very loyal customers and good people too. Quite long winded though.”

Dean laughs— _genuinely_ , for the first time in what feels like forever. “Tell me ‘bout it! By the time it was all over, Helen had already covered me in her lipstick and planned to set me up with her daughter.”

“You too? Now, I thought _I_ was the only one she did that with. _Hm_ … I don’t feel very special anymore” Castiel chuckles, turning his back to Dean so that he can grab something from the shelf on the wall.

“Oh, no—you’re special” Dean mutters under his breath, taking this chance to stare at the man’s perky, tight ass. He licks his lips and bobs his head approvingly; finally feeling like his day is looking up … that is, until he catches Becky eyeing him with the most devilish smirk he’s ever seen.

Dean turns ten shades of red— _she totally caught me_.

“In any case—what’s your choice? The Newcomer Special or just a cut?” Castiel chimes in, drawing Dean’s attention back to the other end of the shop.

“Oh—uh, I guess … I guess I can try the special. I _do_ need to shave anyway, so I may as well try the straight razor thingy or whatever.”

Castiel grins now, and it’s gummy and beautiful, and it makes his eyes almost completely disappear behind his cheeks. Dean feels his heart stutter. “Wonderful! Come—have a seat and we’ll get you set up.”

Dean exhales sheepishly, taking one last look at Becky—who is still staring at him like she can read every thought in his twisted little mind. _Fuck_ … she doesn’t _have to_ read it. She totally caught him perving on Cas, and now that _she knows_ , Dean is going to be feeling her eyes on him the rest of the time that he’s here. _Great. Just great._

“Now, I will walk you through what I’m going to do—because newcomers always expect this to be a quick process, but there are actually quite a few steps; so you can still change your mind if it sounds like too much.”

Dean nods before sitting down in the chair, leaning his head back against the headrest and looking up at Castiel, who is now upside-down to him, yet still just as gorgeous as ever. He then watches the man slip into a white overcoat—that looks a little like a lab coat, only more styled with a black collar and black piping around the sleeves.

“So, I will begin with a hot towel. I will wrap it around your face to stimulate the skin and lift the hair so that I can get a really close shave. Then I will apply some soothing balm and lotion—then another hot towel, and then I will apply the lather. After that, I will carefully run the razor across your cheeks, chin, lips and throat, until you’re completely smooth … unless you want to leave anything _unshaved_. Are you trying to grow out a beard or mustache?”

Dean shakes his head—suddenly feeling too nervous to talk. This is all so intricate and … _intimate_. It’s weird.

“Oh good” Castiel says with an obvious sigh of relief, but then Dean notices how the man’s cheeks tinge. “Well … not _good._ I just meant that … I don’t think a mustache or a beard would suit you. Well, they _could_ suit you … _anything_ could suit _you_ , really. You have a very nice face—well the _structure_ of it. Cheekbones … jaw.  I just mean … _um_ …”

“Oh, _jeez_ ” Becky grumbles behind them, and Dean strains his eyes to look at her through the mirror, but all he can see is the top of her blonde head shaking back and forth.

“Shall we get started?” Castiel grunts quickly, clearly not wanting to dwell on what he was just saying. Dean nods, still too nervous to dwell on it either.

“Good. Now, just relax and close your eyes.”

Dean follows the direction the best he can, but he really wants to see what’s going on. Being blind to things always makes him twitchy—and being twitchy with an extremely sharp razor pressed to your neck is probably not the best situation to be in. He takes one more peek around just before Castiel begins.

The barber smiles at him through the mirror as he wraps the long, black drape around Dean’s shoulders, and then he places a dry towel just underneath his chin. “What’s your name?” Cas asks after several quiet seconds; soon moving around to scrape his blade on a long strap of leather—just like Dean has seen in the movies.

“Dean Winchester” he squeaks—eyeing the blade with caution.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean. I’m Castiel—as I’m sure you’ve figured out via our window” He nods towards the glass. “And you’ve already met Becky.”

Dean sees a pale hand shoot up through the reflection in the mirror. Becky waves at him and giggles.

“Are you new to this area?” Castiel asks, finishing up with his blade now and setting it back down on the counter—so he goes over to a large box with a temperature gauge on it. When he opens it up, steam billows out in thick curls, and Dean can see several towels rolled up inside.

“Yeah. I got a job down here so I moved from Kansas. Just got in yesterday.”

“Oh really? What do you do?”

“I’m an architect.”

“As in—you design buildings?”

“More like … _structures_. I specialize in industrial facilities and layouts.”

“Interesting. So what is it that you will be doing here?”

“An energy company hired me to design their power plants.”

“Wow, that’s quite an undertaking. You must be very skilled to do that sort of work.”

Dean shrugs, trying to act indifferent. He _is_ very proud of the work that he does, but whenever someone acts like what he does is _impressive_ , it makes him feel weird, like he’s coming off more special than he actually is.

“Here comes the hot towel” Castiel says suddenly, and Dean quickly shuts his eyes again, glad that the pleasantries seem to be over. He didn’t know what else to say anyway.

As he purses his lips, he feels some steam wafting against his jaw—and then some almost-too-warm terrycloth is being pressed around his face.  “Is that alright?” Castiel asks, and Dean can only nod, because his mouth is covered, as is the rest of his face with the exception of his nose. “Good. Now, just breathe evenly. _Relax_.”

Dean tries, but he’s still wriggling in his seat. He doesn’t like feeling this trapped and vulnerable. Not only is he unable to _see_ , but he’s also being cared for by someone he doesn’t really know … _worse still,_ someone he’d really _like_ to know better. _Shit._ This day is not going at all how he’d planned. He thought he’d just run out, get his hair cut—in and out in fifteen minutes, maybe grab a burger on the way back to his new apartment , and then spend the rest of the afternoon unpacking and mentally preparing for his first day at his new job. Nowhere in between any of that did he plan on getting shaved and pampered by a blue-eyed, dark and dapper slice of perfection.

“This makes you nervous, doesn’t it?” that low gruff voice asks, which causes Dean to freeze in the midst of his fits.

“ _Uh_ ” he mumbles uneasily through the steam and cloth.

“It’s alright. A lot of people are uncomfortable with this process at first.”

With that, the towel is quickly pulled away which causes the cool air to prick at Dean’s skin like mosquitoes. He squints a little, now feeling like the dim, yellow light filtering throughout the shop is just a touch too bright for his comfort.

“Let me try something—to see if it will help you relax.”

And before Dean can ask what that something is, or lie and insist that he’s totally _fine_ like he _wants_ to do, Castiel is reaching over to the counter beneath the mirror and picking up a small, circular jar. Then, he’s scooping out a generous portion of white, creamy balm onto his fingertips and moving back around to lean over Dean’s face. “Close your eyes” he instructs quietly, and once again—Dean does as he’s told.

With steady fingers, and a soft but firm touch—Castiel begins thumbing slow circles around Dean’s jaw. The circles tighten, turning into long strokes down his neck, up across his cheeks, firm presses into the side of his nose, eventually motioning back into small circles as the barber’s fingers reach his temples. Dean can feel the tiny knots in his eyebrows that he didn’t even know were there— _disappear_ as soon as the other man starts to work into them.

“You seem very tense” Castiel whispers, and it seems like he’s saying it more to himself than anyone.

“Yeah” Dean hums, already a little hazy from the impromptu massage.

“This move has been stressful for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah” Dean mumbles again—body melting into the soft leather of the barber’s chair.

“Yes, yes … I can tell. Moving to a new place, beginning a new job, a new life—that can make anyone nervous; but it is a good thing. I’m sure you’re going to be very successful here, especially after we get you looking your best.”

A small smile tugs at Dean’s lips, but he’s too relaxed now to really hold it.

“Are you feeling better?”

Dean is nearly drooling, but he manages to nod.

“Good … good … I’m going to put another warm towel on you now. Just breathe slowly and think about all the good things to come.”

Dean inhales—letting his mind wander to his new apartment, which is actually pretty nice. It’s bigger than his old one in Kansas. It’s in a rustic, brick building that has a lot of interesting character. It’s bare and rough and classic, and it’s exactly Dean’s style. He thinks about his new office, how it borders a park that spreads along the Arkansas River. He thinks about all the new things he’ll get to design—and with that, a small, spiraling thrill spins in his gut as he imagines the new challenges he has yet to face. He loves solving tough problems, figuring out new, creative fixes for other people’s lives. It makes him feel like he’s leaving his stamp on things—really making a difference.

The second warm towel meets his skin—but this time, it’s a welcomed feeling.

“Alright, Dean … in just a few moments, I will remove the towel and apply the lather.”

Dean nods slowly, loving the way his name sounds on Castiel’s tongue. And he loved the way Castiel’s fingers felt on his skin— _just imagine how good they’d feel everywhere else._ Those thumbs could perform some real magic on Dean’s shoulders, he’s sure of it. And if those hands wanted to travel _lower_ , Dean certainly wouldn’t object. Maybe Castiel has some _other_ _tricks_ up his sleeve … a guy like _him._ Dean can just see it now, unbuttoning Castiel’s vest and slipping it over his broad, firm shoulders, pushing him down into this barber’s chair— _straddling him_. Watching as those strong, skillful hands grab at his hips to move Dean back and forth, forcing their dicks to grind together… Dean let’s out a tiny, strangled moan.

“Is it too hot?” Castiel asks.

“ _Yeah_ it is” Dean grunts, feeling his dick begin to swell beneath the drape—but then he realizes, Castiel was asking about the _towel_.

 _Fuck_.

Becky’s amused snort rings out from somewhere behind them.

“Oh, sorry about that. _Here_ …” Castiel quickly pulls the towel off of Dean’s face and flaps it lightly in front of him to cool his skin.

“It’s fine … I _uh_ … no, really. I’m fine” Dean stammers, lifting one hand to try and stifle the other man’s concern as his other slips beneath the drape to try and halt his rising dick.

“Oh, alright … well, we can get started then.”

Dean blinks slowly, squinting as he peeks out at the other man. Castiel is moving back towards the far end of the counter and picking up a bowl that has a brush sticking out of it. He then begins spinning the brush around in speedy circles, tapping it against the edge every so often to test the thickness of the lather.

Becky’s head is still visible through the mirror, and Dean can still feel her eyes on him. He can still sense all her judgement mucking up the air; and it’s all that judgment that’s starting to make him sweat.

“Okay—so I will apply this across your face and then proceed with the shave. All you need to do is stay still and relax.”

“Alright. I’ll try.”

A soft chuckle escapes Castiel’s lips and then, he lightly touches Dean’s wrist. “Don’t worry, Dean. I’ve been doing this a long time—and I’ve only ever decapitated someone once.”

It catches him by surprise, but soon enough, Dean is laughing—laughing so hard that he forgets all about Becky and her judgment. He forgets about his own embarrassment, and he even forgets how attracted he is to Cas, because the laughter makes him feel comfortable. It makes him feel at home—and in such a strange city, and in such a strange place, that’s exactly what he needs.

***

The shave goes smoothly— _no pun intended;_ and it’s actually quicker than Dean expected it to be. He barely felt the blade sliding along his skin, and even the scratching it did along his neck and lips wasn’t quite as irritating as he thought it’d be; but it still wasn’t his _favorite_. Castiel made it quick though—and he even began humming a time or two, just a nameless tune but the rumbly sound was pleasant all the same, and it was a good distraction from everything else Dean _could be_ thinking about.

“Alright. So, we’ll do one more hot towel—a little more balm, and then we’ll move on to the cut.”

“Sounds good” Dean says, already feeling lighter without the pound of hair on his face.

Cas takes out the next towel and drapes it over his skin, and Dean melts into it this time, just trying to enjoy the warmth.

“I am not local” Cas says suddenly, and it once again, takes Dean by surprise. “I mean—I am not a native to Oklahoma. I moved here about ten years ago, from Oregon.”

Dean wants to ask _why_ —Oregon is beautiful. He went there with Sam once when they took a cross country road trip; but he can’t really ask that now since his voice is muffled by the towel.

“My brother lives here and I missed my family” Castiel continues, as if he read Dean’s mind. “Although, once I moved, I began to miss the Oregon coast a lot more than I missed my brother.” He laughs some and Dean chuckles too—it’s obvious the guy doesn’t really mean that. By the tone of his voice, Dean can tell that Cas loves his brother, and he also loves _griping_ about his brother.

Dean can really, really relate.

“I suppose we all will make sacrifices for our family—but we also need to sacrifice for ourselves too. I admire _you_  for moving here and taking a big step forward in your career. It’s an intimidating thing, but you’re facing it.”

He’s really happy the towel is there now—it’s covering up all his blushing. “ _Uh_ … thanks” he mumbles, and he begins to fidget again, not used to these sorts of compliments.

“I’m sorry … am I making you uncomfortable? I didn’t mean—” Cas sighs, taking a second to apparently collect an excuse.

It makes Dean jolt, and he quickly pulls back the towel. “No, no! You’re not! I uh—” he sits up some and turns around to look Cas in the eye, because he doesn’t want him to feel bad for trying to be nice. It’s not his fault that Dean is just awkward and weird in these kinds of situations; but before he can continue, he catches Becky out of the corner of his eye, and she’s grinning ear to ear and staring at them like a hungry animal. “ _Uh_ …”

“I simply wanted you to know that I understand how stressful moves can be, but focusing on what’s best for _you_ is always important and I think … well, I think you’re very brave for doing so.”

The towel isn’t hiding anything anymore and Dean feels his cheeks burning bright red and open to the world. “Th—thank you. I appreciate that, I do. It …” he glances at Becky yet again and she has since leaned forward across the counter and put her chin in her hands. “It _is_ intimidating, but I know it’s the right move for me. I—I think I just need to get used to it. I don’t do too well with change.”

“Most of us don’t” Castiel chuckles, looking around the shop a moment. “So then..." he continues,  "I suppose this wouldn’t be the right time to suggest a new hairstyle?”

“Huh?” Dean asks, absent mindedly reaching up to feel the top of his head. “Is it that bad?”

Castiel’s face blanks. “No! Oh—no, no. That’s not what I—I just meant that there are so many hairstyles that could suit your face, so I thought maybe you’d … you … _never mind_. I can simply give you a trim.”

Dean’s mouth falls open as he watches Castiel stammer, and he feels just awful about it. “Hey—no, that’s totally cool. I mean, you’re the expert, right? I’d love to hear what you think would look best. I just always did what was easiest, but if you have some suggestions …”

“Oh, I do!” Castiel chimes in, looking very excited now. “You _really_ do have a face that can pull off anything. It’s exquisite.”

“Uh … th—thank you.”

Casitel blushes and presses his chin to his chest. “You’re welcome.”

“ _Oh my god_ ” Becky squeaks and both Cas and Dean turn to look at her. Her eyes go wide with the attention, but her grin doesn’t falter at all. “Sorry… don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here, minding my own business.” The girl then turns towards the register and randomly presses at buttons, doing absolutely nothing productive at all.

With a gulp, Dean turns back and watches as Castiel purses his lips at her—and that makes an adorable vein pop out in his forehead.

“I apologize for her—she has a tendency to act rather _strange_ and I never quite understand why.”

“It’s because you don’t understand women … or people for that matter” Becky chirps, eventually flicking her eyes back towards the barber before throwing up her hand. “Sorry—minding my own business! Not listening! Working! Nothing to see here!”

Castiel groans but finally turns once more to Dean. “Where were we?”

“Uh …” Dean says, wanting to answer but he’s suddenly transfixed by the pink in Cas’s lips.

“Oh, yes—I need to apply the balm. Please, lie back how you were.”

Dean follows the instructions and leans back—watching Castiel move to the counter for a third time to scoop out more balm from the small tub. And then he’s standing in front of Dean, rubbing the balm between his fingers, squinting as he reaches out to begin smoothing it across Dean’s now-very soft cheeks. He goes slowly. He’s careful with every stroke of his finger. It’s light, but firm, and it makes Dean’s skin tingle pleasantly. Every so often, he would look into Dean’s eyes and give him a small smile, and each time it happened—the look would linger a little longer, and his touch would slow down just a little more, until at a certain point, Castiel is just standing there, holding Dean’s cheek and staring at him like he’s reading between all his lines.

The phone rings.

It sends Castiel jolting back—clearing his throat and fumbling as he turns to look towards Becky and the loud, jangling interruption.

Dean hears her answer the call, but he doesn’t look away from the barber this time, wondering what in the hell just happened a moment ago— _and how can he get it back?_

“Castiel’s Barber Shop. This is Becky speaking.” The room falls silent a moment before the girl’s perky voice fills it again. “Oh yes, Mr. Tussleman! He _did_ come in … _mhm_ … yes … oh well, now _that_ , I’m not sure.” The girl suddenly bursts out laughing. “Now _that_ I _am_ sure of! Oh, yes … yes. He is … they are … you know it! … Oh my gosh! I know, right? I thought the same thing! … Yeah … oh, yes! Totally! _Uh huh_ … Okay … yeah … you too. Have a good day Mr. Tussleman. Bye bye. “

The expression on Castiel’s face turned from one of shock to one of confusion in the span of that phone call, and Dean stares as the man tilts his head to silently question Becky as to what it was about.

“That was just Mr. Tussleman. He wanted to see if Dean here ever made it in” Becky says nonchalantly, as if they both didn’t just hear her whole end of the conversation.

“ _And?_ ” Castiel leads, asking exactly what Dean was thinking.

“ _And_ nothing. He was just checking in on Tulsa’s newest addition.”

“That didn’t sound like all he said.”

“Well, he _did_ mention some other ...  _observations_ but _um_ … don’t you have a cut to do?”

“ _Becky_ …” Castiel grumbles.

“Cas?” Becky responds, obviously not concerned at all by her boss’s frustration.

“I swear … if you weren’t Gabriel’s step daughter …”

“I am your best employee and you know it!” Becky laughs.

“You’re my _only_ employee, Becky.”

“Therefore, _I’m the best_ and this shop would fall apart without me. Now—go back to your customer. I know you _want_ to.”

Castiel’s face seems to heat up as his cheeks hollow and nostrils flare. “I so miss the ocean” he mutters, which makes Dean snort. Finally, the barber looks back at him again and forces a smile, but it only takes a second for the force to slip away and a natural ease to take its place. “So—I was thinking, with your face shape …” Castiel quickly begins, turning around to grab a small booklet from the back of the counter. He then flips through a few pages before turning it around to show Dean the image inside, “that a fade with a brush up would look very nice on you. It’s professional, and you can comb it back with some gel when you go into the office; but when you want to take it easy, you can just towel it dry and that’ll look nice too. What do you think?”

Dean looks at the picture and then back at Castiel. Honestly, to him—it’s just hair, and as long as it gets cut, he ccouldn't really care less; so he smiles and nods, which makes the other man beam.

“Wonderful!  Let’s get started, shall we?”

“I’m in your hands” Dean says, sitting straighter in the chair and smiling as he focuses on Cas’s smile.

“Good” Castiel hums, but quickly clears his throat as he turns on his heel and begins sorting through his array of scissors.

“Yeah” Dean answers, and that seems to make Castiel’s tense shoulders, relax some.

The barber glances back at him and grins—almost shyly, before continuing on with what he was doing. “So, _Dean_ … do you have any family back in Kansas?”

Dean nods as he watches the other man’s nimble fingers poke through the holes of the scissors while giving them some cursory snips. “Yeah, a little brother—and his wife, and their three rugrats. I miss them a lot.”

“I can imagine they miss you too.”

“Ha! The kids and Jess, _maybe_ … but I’m sure Sam was happy to be rid of his older brother for a while.” He says it as a joke, but there’s some part of him that actually worries if it’s true.

“I doubt that” Castiel comforts, once again—reading Dean’s mind. “A smart, funny man like you—I’m sure he misses you terribly.”

“I don’t think he finds me all that smart _or_ funny.”

“You’d be surprised how much a younger brother can look up to an older brother” Castiel says, finally moving around behind Dean, but they quickly lock eyes through the mirror. “My brother— _Gabriel_ , is a narcissistic prankster who has spent most of his life making fun of my hair, or the way I dress, or the way I speak … he says I’m too formal and people probably think I’m talking down to them. Anyway, he’s a constant thorn in my side and I am not ashamed to say that every time he comes in for a haircut, I imagine hacking his hair to bits—as payback for all of his torture.”

Dean laughs nervously, because Cas picked _that_ exact moment to start trimming the back of his head. “This is supposed to make me feel _better_?”

Cas smirks, but gives him a wink. “ _Yes_ —I was getting to that.”  He places his fingers on the top of Dean’s head and tilts it down before really getting to work clipping away at his hair. “Even with all his antics however, I can’t help but admire Gabriel. He started his own company at nineteen—he makes unique candy confections and now has stores all over the country; but it’s not just the fact that he’s an entrepreneur that I admire. He met his lovely wife during a time when _her_ life was not going very well, and he stepped in. He took care of her and adopted Becky over there, and just became an outstanding family man. He’s a pillar in this community and I truly couldn’t be more proud to call him my brother … _even though_ he still likes to call me ‘sport’ and give me noogies.”

Dean is laughing but trying not to move his head. “Hey, us older brothers have to keep up appearances, or else there’s a shift in power—and we just can’t have that.”

That makes the barber roll his eyes. “I think you and Gabriel would get a long swimmingly.”

“Well—don’t hack up my hair because of it.”

Cas smirks again. “Well, as long as you don’t plan on giving me a noogie, I think you’re safe.”

Dean bites his lip, but then nods. “Deal.”

“In any case—I think your brother is very proud of you too. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Dean sighs as he feels his insides flutter. “Thanks, man. I—I appreciate it.”

After that, the room falls silent, and even Becky doesn’t say a word—Dean wonders if she’s even still there, because he can’t see her in the mirror anymore.

“So, what about _you_ … any other family? In Oregon or here?” Dean asks once the silence had gone on a beat too long. Plus, he wants to get to know Cas some more, and he’s hoping that his subtle fishing seems casual enough. He wants to know if the guy has a girlfriend, or wife … or a  _boyfriend_ , a husband. _Ya know, whatever._

“No. The only family I have is Gabriel and Ava and Becky. Our parents lived in Idaho, but they passed away when I was in college.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. Both my folks are gone too.”

“I’m sorry. I know how hard that is.”

“Seems like we have a lot in common.”

Castiel stops clipping as he looks up and smiles once more at Dean through the mirror. “Yes—it appears that we do.”

***

They ended up talking for another hour and a half. The cut only took about twenty minutes, but once Cas was done, he leaned himself against the counter in front of Dean and the two just chatted the time away. Dean found out a lot about the guy. He discovered that Cas actually went to school to become a psychologist at first, but never continued with the profession because he couldn’t remain impartial to people’s problems. “I couldn’t simply _talk_ someone through the _big_ issues. I wanted to help _more_ and it was driving me insane that I couldn't. I suppose that makes me sound silly to you” he had said at one point, but Dean instantly disagreed. “No, seriously, man—it doesn’t at all. I get it. I’m a worrier and a fixer too—I wouldn’t be able to sit there and listen to people spill about the _real_ stuff. I mean … it’s like you said before, sometimes you have to do what’s best for you.”

Cas eventually nodded at that, and then proceeded to tell Dean how he got into the barber business. He was still in Oregon at the time and a new shop had just opened up that was offering free cuts and shaves to the first fifty customers. Castiel had just happened to be walking to the grocery store when the shop’s owner caught his attention. So, he went inside and got the free service—but he found himself getting drawn to the whole process. There was a culture and a history to all of this that intrigued him to no end, so he began asking questions. Soon enough, he befriended the barber and a month later, the old man took him in as an apprentice. The rest, as they say, was history.

Dean admired Cas a lot for that—switching careers, going after what he was really interested in, and just _doing it._ It was brave. A lot braver than Dean’s little move across state lines.

 

“I’m gonna head out, boss” Becky said suddenly, and it made both Dean and Castiel jump.

“Oh—alright, Becky. Thanks. Have a good afternoon and tell your mother I’ll see her on Tuesday.”

“Will do. See ya tomorrow.”

Dean watches once more through the mirror as the girl comes into view and moves around the counter, eventually heading towards the front door; but just before she reaches for the handle, she turns back and connects with Dean’s reflected eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Winchester. I hope you’ll be a repeat customer.”

Dean chuckles and then gives the girl a small wave, still too nervous to actually _say_ anything to her, for fear of sticking his big, gay foot into his mouth again.

Once she leaves however, Dean becomes very aware of the rest of the room—especially, the change in light. “Jeez—what time is it? How long have we been talkin’?”

Castiel looks back at him and then down at the watch on his wrist. “It’s about 4 pm. We close early on Sundays.”

“Four? _Holy crap!_ I’ve been in here for over two hours?” Dean is quickly jumping up, panicking as the list of all he has left to do begins scrolling rapidly through his mind.  

“I—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken up so much of your time” Castiel says, peeling himself away front the counter so that he can move past Dean and head towards the front of the shop.

Dean frowns, his _list—forgotten_ as the sadness that’s filling the other man’s eyes draws in all his attention. “No, no— _Cas_ , it’s not your fault. I was talkin’ too. I was asking you questions and just hangin’ out. I was just _uh_ … it was nice, ya know? I was havin’ fun and didn’t want to think about unpacking or work or anything like that.”

Castiel walks back behind the register and smiles, but he doesn’t seem convinced. “Yes, well—it was still improper of me to be chit chatting so much. You’re obviously a busy man and I was not being courteous to that.”

“Seriously, man—this is on _me_. Really. I _do_ have a lot I still need to do, but talking with you …” he blushes and rubs the back of his neck, feeling the soft skin and neatly buzzed hair that’s now gracing the base of his skull. “It was a nice break from all the stress. Like … this, _this_ has been the highlight of the move so far.”

The other man’s blue eyes curve as that adorable gummy grin once again scrunches up his cheeks. “Really?”

“Really, man … I—” Dean was about to say that he appreciates the haircut and the shave, and all the friendly conversation, but then something catches his eye … _his name_. Well, not his _first_ name, but his last name—written on the small chalkboard that _used_ to say: _Newcomer’s Special._

_“ **The Winchester Special:** _

  * _One straight razor shave with sensual face massage._
  * _Five minutes of flustered conversation._
  * _Two accidental confessions (more upon request)._
  * _One loving face-balm application, complete with lengthy stares and heart eyes._
  * _One haircut with three complimentary awkward compliments._
  * _Two life-stories_
  * _And all the flirtation you can handle!”_



Dean feels the blood rush from his face—and his mouth goes completely dry as he finishes reading the white-chalked words.

“Dean?” Castiel asks, obviously noticing the change in his demeanor. “What is it?”

Before Dean can answer, and before he even has a hope of stopping him, the other man is following his eyeline to the sign—quickly grabbing it and turning it around so that he can read what it says. “ _Oh_ …” he mutters after a minute.

“ _Uh_ … yeah” Dean chokes, really wanting to slither away now.

“I—I am so sorry about this, Dean. _Becky_ … she can be … well, she can be _very_ unprofessional sometimes.”

“It’s, it’s fine” Dean stutters, turning to look towards the door in the hopes of making a speedy escape.

“I mean, _really_ —listing all these services and then forgetting to add a price.”

Dean whips his head back and stares wildly at Castiel. “What?” he rasps, then watching in shock and confusion as the barber calmly reaches into the cup beside the register and pulls out a small piece of chalk. After that, Cas begins writing something else onto the board, finishing up a moment later before replacing the sign back in front of Dean. Dean gawks, unsure if he really wants to look down to read what Castiel has added. But he does; and _there_ , in sharp tight lettering beside all Becky’s bubbled words, reads: “ ** _Cost:_** _One Date._ ”

“I hope that’s a fair price” Castiel says softly, pulling Dean’s focus once more to him.

It takes him a moment, but soon Dean finds that he is grinning like an idiot. “ _Yeah_ …” he laughs, stepping in closer as he looks that adorable barber up and down, “yeah, I think I can manage that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I've written quite a few of these "Dean sees Cas and is super attracted to him and awkward flirting ensues" fics as of late, but they make me happy; so I hope they make you happy too.
> 
> But don't worry, I will write more angst soon.
> 
> For more fluff, smut and feels, check out the rest of my Ao3.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at [Castiel-Left-His-Mark-On-Me](castiel-left-his-mark-on-me.tumblr.com)


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